Gemotions

The box sat on the floor, surrounded by discarded clothes and forgotten toys. Sarah slowly picked up the letter. Inside, scrawled in her sister’s familiar handwriting, was an unsent letter. It was written shortly before her sister’s accident.

The words spoke of big plans and bright futures. The words felt like a cruel mockery. A wave of nausea hit her. She felt like she was drowning, the words blurring before her eyes. The laughter from the kids playing outside, the warmth of the sun through the window, all felt like an insult.

She sat heavily on the floor, the paper crinkling in her grasp. The letter described her sister’s dreams of starting a family, of traveling the world. Now, all those dreams were shattered, extinguished like a candle in the wind. The silence in the room was deafening, the air thick with unspoken sorrow.

She felt the tremor start deep within her, shaking her to her core. She could almost hear her sister's voice, her laughter. She wanted to scream. She pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling the sound. The loss was a physical presence.